SOME of the mystery surrounding Michael Jackson’s is-he-or- isn’t-he in the coffin is because Family Jackson worried someone might steal the body. Besides squabbling over finances, arrangements, religious rites, places of interment and whatever other inharmonies, the possibility, per their thinking, centered on someone maybe kidnapping Michael’s remains. They even worried about micro signals being jammed. Whatever that means. So heavy was this concern that Homeland Security got called in for protection.

Three different law enforcement units are investigating his doctors and pharmacists. Maybe for no other reason than such time and effort has gone into this medical investigation, indictments are possibilities.

Pardon me, but while this golden boy was tarnishing himself and his body, where was this family? Where were those who now purport to have been his loved ones, to have been in his close circle, who endlessly declare into whatever microphone’s near how they adored him personally and how they’ve eternally been his best friends?

Yes, his talent was a divine phenomenon, but one wonders if the public’s unslakeable thirst for more more more Michael Jackson might partially have been because, exhausted from stresses and strains of unemployment, recession, economic woes, war, Iran, Iraq, Israel, Afghanistan, North Korea, health care — the nation needed to focus on something other than its own plight.

I spent seven days in Iceland. Despite wall-to-wall CNN and other international 24-hour funeral coverage, not one lone single human asked or spoke about Michael.

In any case, now possibly this very special creature can be put to rest. It was a 10-day funeral. Abraham Lincoln, whose body had to travel all the way back to Springfield, Ill., on a train, only got four days.

Watch now for the publishing deluge, including one from Realtor Gloria Berlin, who has already hit the airwaves. She lived near him in Encino a lifetime ago, they were friends, she sold him his Neverland property and is racing to finish her book. She knew him in his less sensationful years and has only kindly stories. Smartmouths are saying, better spice it up if she wants it to sell. Since her memories are all gentle and sweet, she’s being told to widen it to include what’s it like in general selling real estate to surreal Hollywood.

JAMES TAYLOR, spare Sharpie in his mouth like a cigar, signing autographs at the Marriott Marquis . . . Paris Hilton buying a handbag at Tusk on West 26th . . . Whitney Houston in white sweat suit with a visor at Beverly Hills eatery Cut. OK by me, but Cut’s a really fancy place . . . Speaking of VIPs feeding, new NYC hangout is Orsay, 75th and Lex, where Hassan, formerly of Cipriani, is now. An advance team scouted it for President Nicolas Sarkozy‘s coming visit . . . Excuuuuse me, but South Carolina’s lover governor, Mark Sanford, admitting he’s crossed lines and/or ladies before? Kiddies, mother told you that already! Somebody should tell him, do what’s right and you don’t have to remember anything. Another thing to tell him, that is, if anyone cares to talk to him: The most popular name registered for a man’s boat is “Obsession” . . . Jon Bon Jovi: “I spent many nights doing That Voice when I was thinking I’d someday maybe be Mick Jagger.”

FORGET about being green, it ain’t easy being lean. I asked Michelle Pfeiffer how she stays slim. She said: “I’m not allowed to do those fancy foods. Especially while shooting. At that time, I’m given certain portions. Meted out quantities. Like when we filmed ‘Chéri’ in Paris, I did not partake of those sauces. And now with summer and everyone letting themselves go, I struggle to keep it simple. My husband and I are not doing lots of travel. Or gorging.”

More summer. Liev Schreiber, who heads back with Naomi Watts and brood to Sydney after “Salt” wraps, told Hamptons Magazine he’ll weekend in Amagansett through July. “So, Liev, how is it being a daddy?”

“Biggest change is less sleep. Plus more play, which wasn’t really part of our lives before because of work. If you’d asked five years ago would I willingly uproot my life for some small human being who just wanted to play in sand on a beach, I’d have said you’re out of your mind.”

MEREDITH Ander son brought her 20-year-old Louis Vuitton duffel bag to a repair shop, Lexington Luggage, for fixing. The price was $1,500. The owner said Nancy Kissinger brought in that exact piece for that exact kind of spruce-up. With Vuitton not making this particular style anymore, those addicted to it are paying that kind of money to have it repaired.